


Love and Mini Marshmallows

by themthere_taterthings



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, detective!tony, firefighter!clint, good guy loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:42:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5957482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themthere_taterthings/pseuds/themthere_taterthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint needs mini marshmallows (it's blasphemy to have hot chocolate without them!) but there's a crazy sounding handsome stranger lurking in the baking aisle...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Mini Marshmallows

Clint was on the tail end of his shift at the station, only one more day left before he had three whole days off to sleep and eat and veg out without ten other men hanging about. Don’t get him wrong, Clint loved working as a firefighter, it was equal parts frat house fun, chock full of prank wars and terrible food and communal living, and the more serious roller coaster of emotions that came with running headfirst into danger. All in all, it was extremely rewarding. He was saving lives! As well as homes, memories, and the occasional kitten. Not to mention the other perks: everybody loves a fireman. However, it was shifts like this that made him long for a simple 8-to-5. They’d had to run on a series of house fires and an apartment complex, plus an accident on the freeway requiring the Jaws of Life with hardly any downtime at all in between. Clint had grabbed naps whenever he could but he would kill for a solid night’s sleep somewhere dark and quiet. He probably should be back at the station sleeping right now, but it was habit for him to drink a cup of hot chocolate overflowing with mini marshmallows before going to bed. When he’d gone to get his hot delicious comfort drink ready after a shower, he’d discovered that some asshole (probably Bucky) had finished off his marshmallows and no put them on the station shopping list.

 Hence, why he was at the small grocery store down the street at one in the morning on a Thursday. He’d never actually been to this store by himself; usually two or three of the guys went on a grocery run just because of the sheer amount of food that was needed for a given week. It was freakishly quiet, the automatic doors whooshing open seemed to disrupt the very air. It was also very nearly empty, the dark haired girl at the single lit check out station looked up from a copy of ‘Glamour’ without expression, blew a large bubble with her gum, popped it with an alarming _crack_ , and went back to it without a word to Clint. _Yikes_ , he was never coming here alone at night again…

 Not about to lose his cool in the face of one girl, who was probably younger than him, he sauntered as casually as possible toward the baking supply aisle. He ducked down the aisle quickly, strangely relieved to be out of the girls line of sight, and almost didn’t notice the other man in the aisle until he was practically on top of him.

The guy was standing in front of the marshmallow display in ratty, loose, stained jeans, converse sneakers, and a non-descript gray zip up hoody. Great, alone in the grocery store with a hobo.

The guy started mumbling to himself and gesturing at the marshmallows. Even better, alone in the grocery store with a _crazy_ hobo. Maybe he could edge around the crazy, grab his bag, _it was right there – he could see it!_ and keep running down the aisle with no one the wiser.

“What’s with the colored marshmallows? Ew, they’re flavored?! Why would they be flavored? That sounds horrible in hot chocolate. Hmm.. giant marshmallows.. has potential. One marshmallow plus hot chocolate, be like a fancy bourbon but a marshmallow instead of ice.”

Clint almost burst out laughing after catching the hobo’s monologue. Maybe he wasn’t a hobo after all. Had he never heard of the flavored marshmallows before?

It only took a moment to gather his composure and step closer, almost knocking elbows with the stranger to grab a two bags of the plain white mini marshmallows. The man startled harshly, looking up at Clint with large, warm brown eyes with more than a hint of exhaustion ringing them. He was certainly handsome, with his tanned skin and more than a little scruff. Very handsome, and he smelled good too: spicy and metallic. Definitely not a hobo.

“Hi?” the stranger said to Clint, obviously thrown off by his proximity. 

“The colored ones are for jell-o salads and fruity crap desserts, the biggies are for epic s’mores, but for hot chocolate these are king,” Clint said, pressing one of the bags into the brunette’s hands.

“So you’re a marshmallow connoisseur?” the man said with an amused, friendly smile, his eyes subtly flicking downwards, quickly raking over Clint’s body.

“I don’t know about connoisseur, there’s only like four kinds and they’re all worthless without hot chocolate,” Clint replied, trying to will away the heat in his cheeks from that glance.

“Ah, well that’s good to know. I’m not usually a hot chocolate drinker, but I do plan on actually getting sleep tonight so coffee’s off the menu. And my colleague is an absolute nut-job who won’t drink hot chocolate without marshmallows,” the man was interrupted as a huge yawn split his face. He looked surprised and a little embarrassed afterward, belatedly bringing up a hand to cover his mouth.

It was pretty adorable and Clint laughed, “Well it’s pretty much blasphemous to drink hot chocolate without the minis. I drink some almost every night.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize our local fire department was full of such partiers, you better tone it down there, buddy. People might get the wrong idea about you,” the stranger said with a ridiculous eyebrow waggle.

Clint had forgotten that he was still wearing his casual gear; shirt stamped with the FD shield, issued red suspenders and blue pants with an unnecessary number of pockets. In general, he thought the suspenders were pretty pointless but he appreciated the way brown eyes roved over them. It made him bolder than normal as he thought up a reply.

“Hey, I’m just a mild-mannered fireman three days out of the week, but I’ve been known to let my hair down at Maloney’s every now and then.” Clint put a hint of heat in his gaze and crossed his arms, allowing his biceps to work to his advantage.

He was pleased to see the effect it garnered, as his good-looking stranger licked his lips and seemed at a loss for words. “Uh, Maloney’s, huh?” he asked, and there was a strangled quality to it that had Clint doing a mental happy dance. “Is that the bar down on 34th?”

“Yeah, me and the guys from the station go there sometimes after a shift to unwind. It’s not like most of us have much family to rush home to.”

“I’ve been there a couple times but maybe I’ll have to stop by more often.”

There was no way Clint was misreading this. How crazy was it to go from a four month dating dry spell to flirting with some random hot dude in the grocery store at an ungodly hour of night? He was about to reply, maybe get the guy’s name and number when the guys’ eyes went huge and unseeing. His bag of marshmallows fell to the floor and he was murmuring under his breath.

“Yo, dude, are you okay, you having a stroke or something?” Clint asked, grabbing the guy’s shoulders with both hands.

“Oh my gosh that’s it, how did we not think of it before. That has to be it!” He made an aborted attempt to run, but Clint’s arms stopped him. Brown eyes snapped to Clint’s, and the change was incredible. Suddenly, they were filled with electricity, energy and enthusiasm replacing every earlier hint of exhaustion.

“It’s incredible! I figured it out!” he exclaimed, grabbing Clint’s face with rough, strong fingers and kissing him firmly on the mouth.

Before Clint could respond to what was definitely a spectacular kiss, the man was running down the aisle to the exit, marshmallows lying forgotten on the linoleum.

“Wait! Your…” Clint tried calling after him, but his handsome hobo stranger was gone.

 ~~~~

For the next several weeks, Clint finds himself doing grocery runs at all hours of the night in hopes of seeing the guy again. He’s been dubbed ‘Marshmallow Man’ by the fellas at the station who give him crap constantly about his pining. Even the girl from the register who works the late shifts seems to be in on it, smirking at him knowingly and smacking her gum overly loud every time he wanders through.

It’s disappointing every time, but Clint can’t help but hope. There’s no way that guy wasn’t flirting back! He even spends more time at Maloney’s, knowing that the guy had said he’d been there.

He sits at the bar with a clear view of the door, nursing a beer and watching the late night news. The whole city’s in an uproar; the local cops just busted the leader of a huge techno-terrorist group calling themselves AIM. So far, Clint hadn’t caught what exactly that stood for, but apparently the lower level thugs had a thing for bright orange bandanas _. Cuz that’s really subtle_ …

The news was going on and on about the trial that would be held in a month. Most of the details of the investigation and leader’s capture were being withheld by the police, so it was all worthless speculation in Clint’s opinion. He did agree with the specialists who were worried about retaliation against local law enforcement. All these groups thought the same way, _an eye for an eye_ , with no regard for bystanders.

It was depressing crap and he was already mopey about his love life. “Joe!” he hollered, getting the bartender’s attention. “Change the channel will ya? Put on the game.”

~~~~~

So far it was a pretty boring Tuesday afternoon with zero fires. All the guys on shift were lazing about the station, some napping and a few dedicated souls like Sam were at the little makeshift gym downstairs. Clint, Bucky, and Steve were watching the television upstairs, lounging on the assortment of mismatched couches and recliners.

It was the day of the AIM leader’s trial, one Aldrich Killian, also known as the Mandarin to his followers. It was kinda cultish and freaky, in Clint’s opinion. Usually, they didn’t care to watch the news for this kind of thing, but AIM was supposedly responsible for several arsons around and that was definitely of interest to the firefighters.

They watched in silence, until Steve spoke up. “You guys know Thor, right?”

“That huge blonde guy, EMT?” Bucky asked around a mouthful of chips.

“That’s the one,” Steve said, nodding. “He was at a scene the other day and said that his brother’s one of the detectives that caught this guy. They’ve been working this case for months, he and his partner have been practically living at the station.”

Bucky whistled, “Sounds like a tough gig, man. Glad they got this guy, though.”

Clint nodded his own agreement, sipping slowly at a Coke. The newscaster was standing in front of the courthouse, less than a mile from their station. It looked pretty busy, cops and people and other news station personnel milling about everywhere. All in all, Clint was glad he wasn’t anywhere near that chaos.

The explosion from the television made all three of them jump.

“Holy shit!” Clint exclaimed, hopping to his feet with Bucky and Steve. Steve was already yelling instructions for the rest of the crew, and Bucky was hauling ass toward the bell and gear lockers. Clint watched the television for a moment more.

The newscaster was yelling and suddenly the minor chaos from before was inconsequential as the camera caught thick, dark smoke billowing out from the west side of the courthouse. They were in for one hell of an afternoon.

In less than five minutes, they were all suited up and in the rig, sirens and horns blaring their arrival. Clint could see Steve on the radio, calling for aid from additional stations and trying to get a handle on the situation before they arrived.

They pulled up to the front, news vans and ‘black and whites’ scattering before them. Some of the guys were hooking up hoses, Steve was talking with one of the lead policemen on site. Clint and Bucky turned to each other to double check their equipment. It was pretty likely that Steve would send them in for search and rescue.

“Alright fellas, looks like some disgruntled members of AIM set this up in retaliation and in hopes of breaking their guy out. There’s reports of shooting toward the front of the courthouse where the trial was, but the explosion was near the back.

Buck, Clint, you guys are to take a team in the east rear. Put out anything you see and search for wounded. Stay away from the front, we’ve got active shooters and a lot of heavy smoke. Keep your radios up.” Steve used his captain voice to great effect and they were off almost before he was done.

Clint stopped as they approached the rear of the building to take in the scene. The courthouse was in really rough shape but the east side still looked structurally sound. People were still yelling and stumbling out of the building and that thick black smoke was settling in, a dark choking miasma that would only be worse inside.

He took one deep, calming breath before running in.

It was pretty par for the course, he and Bucky moved from room to room, checking for any injured or unconscious people and putting out any hints of flame. They were quickly approaching the west end of the building, where things were less stable and the smoke incredibly thick. They wouldn’t be able to continue this way much longer just the two of them.

Bucky was gesturing him over to what he presumed to be a jury deliberation room off of the room they were currently clearing. There was a red-haired woman in an ivory skirt suit trapped beneath a bookshelf, barely conscious and bleeding slightly from a head wound. Bucky was already talking to her, trying to wake her up, but wasn’t having much luck. Nodding at Clint, they each took a side of the shelf and heaved it up and to the side. Once clear, Bucky lifted her over his shoulder in the typical fireman’s carry.

“You get her out of here and I’ll wait in the hall. I can’t keep track of these damn rooms,” Clint said.

“Me neither. Don’t go any further or Steve will kill us both,” Bucky agreed, already moving back toward the exit.

Clint took a moment to catch his breath, the stress of the situation with the uncontrolled fire and active shooters was high and, combined with the weight of his gear and oxygen, had him breathing heavier than he would like to admit.

He nearly jumped out of his skin, heartbeat skyrocketing as he heard gunshots, way closer than they should have been. He froze, unsure of what to do as voices floated to him.

“Put the gun down, Killian! I _will_ shoot you!” A gruff, angry voice called out. Wait, wasn’t Killian the name of the guy supposedly on trial today? Shit, he should move, head back to the exit.

Clint had just made up his mind to flee (tactical retreat, is how he would sell it to Steve) when he heard a quick volley of gunshots and the voice from before yell in pain. A moment later, a figure in a dark blue suit came around the corner, leaning heavily on the wall. One arm was pressed to his side beneath the suit jacket and a gun dangled from the other.

Clint’s breath stuck in his throat; there was no way this day could get any more surreal, but it was the Marshmallow Man. His handsome stranger from the grocery store was standing with him in the middle of a modern day war zone. He really cleaned up well, but was he a terrorist or a good guy?

The guy saw Clint, sighed heavily, and pulled his jacket aside to reveal a badge. “Hey, Detective Tony Stark. Think you could help me to the exit?” he said, grimacing slightly. It was then that Clint noticed all the blood on Tony’s hand and soaking across his white dress shirt.

Clint was by his side in two seconds flat, maybe faster, putting his arm under the detective’s on his uninjured side and taking most of his weight. Clint tilted his head to get to his radio.

“This is Clint, I need medical to meet me at the east rear. Officer down. Detective Tony Stark, gunshot wound to the abdomen.”

“Roger that, Clint. An ambulance will meet you there,” Steve’s voice crackled reassuringly back.

Clint moved as fast as he could, needing to get Tony out before he bled out or succumbed to the smoke that was continuing to thicken around them. He couldn’t let anything happen to him now that he’d finally found the guy! He sighed in relief when he finally caught sight of daylight. Just in time, too; Tony was coughing and leaning more and more of his weight on Clint.

They were greeted by more people than expected. Thor was first to get to them, scooping Tony up effortlessly, cradling him close to his chest as he jogged toward an ambulance. Clint pulled off his helmet and wiped sweat off of his forehead with his coat sleeve as he followed them.

“Thor! Put me down! There’s nothing wrong with my legs, this is completely inappropriate,” Tony was swatting ineffectually at the much larger blonde. Clint grinned, from behind them you almost couldn’t see Tony at all.

“Brother! I’ve found Tony!” Thor bellowed, and soon a worried-looking tall, pale, dark haired man in a green button down and black slacks appeared at their side.

“Tony, oh my god. What happened with Killian? Are you all right?” he asked, taking Tony’s gun from him to make it disappear somewhere on his own body.

“Hey Lokes,” Tony said, breathing much easier now that they were outside. “Killian’s dead. Bastard shot me, I’ll never live it down. Where’s Pepper?”

The red-head Clint and Bucky had rescued earlier jumped out of the ambulance as Thor lifted Tony onto a gurney. “I’m here, Tony. Are you ok? What were you thinking going after Killian like that?”

A bandage was on her forehead and Tony reached out as if to touch it, but let his hand drop into his lap. “I was doing my job, Pep. We spent _months_ on this case, I couldn’t just let him walk out of there. What about you, are you hurt?”

“Am I hurt?! Tony, you self-sacrificing jerk! You’ve been shot!” Clint could hear the woman getting worked up, but was distracted as Steve clasped him on the shoulder. Right, he was working. Protocols had to be followed.

“Rigs 11 and 13 showed up to help a little bit ago. The fire’s contained and the rest is cake. You ok, you didn’t check in,” Steve hadn’t removed his hand, but squeezed gently. It was a typical Steve move, combining admonishment with a chance to reassure their fearless leader that his men were ok.

Clint clasped Steve’s bicep in return, knowing how much Steve appreciated these small, companionable touches. “Sorry, Steve. I’m fine but there was some shooting a bit closer than expected. I just pulled the detective out of there and wanted to make sure he was ok.”

Something must have shown on his face because Steve’s forehead furrowed in worry; the exact opposite of what Clint was trying to achieve. “What’s wrong? Buck checked in, he’s fine.”

Clint shook his head, he figured Bucky was fine after seeing the woman they’d fished out on her feet and bandaged up already. He looked toward Tony, the gurney now in the ambulance as Natasha, one of the EMTs they frequently bumped into on scenes, cut off his shirt and prepped his bare arm for an IV. Clint’s brain had a minor short circuit at the sight. Wow, Tony was surprisingly, and definitely pleasantly, ripped. He gestured toward the ambulance with an arm, “It’s the guy from the grocery store,” he said quietly.

Steve’s face went from worried to incredulous in half a second, mouth actually gaping. “Marshmallow Man?!” he practically shouted, garnering the attention of everyone in and near the ambulance.

Tony was staring at Clint intensely, seemingly drinking him in with a goofy smile on his face. Clint smiled back and waved awkwardly. “Hi, Tony.” He would have said more, introduced himself, but Tony interrupted.

“Marshmallow Man? Come on, that makes me sound like I’m 400 pounds! You let your firefighter buddies think that about me?” A pout pushed his lower lip out and Clint had equal urges to tickle the man silly and to grab that lip between his teeth and suck it into his own mouth.

“Ahh, so this is the enchanting ‘Super Hot Firefighter’ we’ve been hearing about for weeks?” Loki added, sarcasm dripping despite using finger quotes. Clint blushed, at least Tony had thought about him too!

“Well, you can’t argue with that can you? Just look at him!” Tony tried to point, but Natasha was holding his arm down, keeping the IV secure. “AND he saved my life. He’s obviously my soulmate.” The certainty in Tony’s voice belied the crazy grin on his face and the fact that he could no longer focus his gaze on Clint.

“I hope someone’s recording this,” Natasha smirked. “He’s on the good drugs now and I’ve been dying to get blackmail on this little jerk for a while.”

Thor finished up at Tony’s side, “We must go, he’s stable for now, but this will need surgery.” He jumped out of the ambulance and closed the rear doors before anything more could be said. “Loki, you can meet us at the hospital.” He strode to the driver’s side and the vehicle was gone.

Clint looked at the ground to hide his disappointment, another opportunity come and gone. A throat cleared loudly to catch his attention. Tony’s partner stood before him, one slim, pale hand outstretched, “Hello, I’m Loki, Tony’s partner. I’ve heard a lot about you, albeit primarily regarding your physical prowess. I’m actually disappointed in how little your eyes actually sparkle.”

Taking the hand, Clint laughed. “Clint Barton. Yeah, I’m sure the fellas at the station are pretty sick of hearing me moon over some random guy, too.”

“Revenge will find a way, I’m sure. Anyway, Tony would be devastated if you didn’t visit him. He’s going to Metro General. If you give me your number I can text you his room number. In my experience, gunshot surgeries take a few hours.” Clint could hardly feel his face, he was smiling so largely. Maybe not a bust after all.

~~~~~

The rest of the day went by in a blur as the rig stays at the courthouse for a few more hours putting out all residual flames and then filling out action reports back at the station. Clint spent more than a few minutes standing under near-scalding hot water in the locker room showers, washing away all the horror and stress and sweat and dirt from the day. It was also a great place to wait out Steve and Bucky, who were being incredibly nosy about Tony. When his shoulders and neck had finally loosened up to the point where he was no longer in danger of a tension headache he shuts the water off and steps out.

The guys from the next shift are already starting to file in, so he pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans and boots, a black muscle tank top, and a light flannel. He’s just wondering if he should go home and wear holes in his carpet or hang out at Maloney’s to wait for Loki’s text when his phone dings.

(Unknown number): Tony’s allowed visitors now. Surgery went well. Room 344.

Well, it was definitely to the point. Clint laughed and texted a thank you back.

~~~~~

After checking in at the third floor nurses station, Clint found his way to Tony’s room. He knocked lightly on the open door and stepped in. Tony was in bed, not quite sitting up, but reclining, propped up on all sorts of pillows. He smiled at Clint, and damn, did the guy ever not look drop dead gorgeous?

“Hey handsome,” Tony said without hesitation. “I was hoping you’d be by.”

“Hey Tony, how you feeling?” Clint asked, pulling the visitor chair closer to the bedside before sitting.

“It’s fine, really, not my first gunshot,” he replied, absently waving a hand.

Clint’s eyes widened. “That’s not reassuring at all, dude!” he exclaimed.

Tony just shrugged, “Been on the force a long time, it was bound to happen. And there’s no way _you_ of all people can give me crap about a dangerous job.” Tony’s stare was intense and serious, boring into Clint’s own. He squirmed a bit under that scrutiny.

“Alright, alright, whatever. Are you on any painkillers at all, because you’re freakishly put-together for a post-op?” Clint asked.

“Not much, I don’t like being medicated, out of control. You never know who could get in here,” Tony glanced at the door and Clint noticed his hands absently fisting in his blankets. Before he could stop himself, Clint had reached out and took one in both of his own.

Tony’s hand was cold, but quickly warming up between Clint’s. It was calloused and a little rough, tan, and perfect. “I’m Clint, by the way, but you can call me Super Hot Firefighter if you want.”

Tony laughed, then grimaced in pain. “I’m sorry I ran out on you that night, but I had a breakthrough about the case,” he smiled ruefully. “I was really hoping to find you again though, after the trial. Introduce myself, ask you to dinner. I’ll bet you look damn good in a suit,” Tony trailed off, closing his eyes, but not removing his hand from Clint’s.

Clint could tell he was in pain, but was too afraid to ask for any painkillers. He honestly couldn’t blame him; he was sure Tony had seen and experienced some serious crap in his line of business. “Tony, can we make a deal?” The other man opened his eyes and looked at him, questioningly. “Please take something for the pain, I don’t like seeing you like this. You take something and I’ll stay here with you tonight.”

Tony’s eyes were huge in surprise. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “You, Clint, really? You would?”

Clint loved hearing Tony say his name. “Of course, Tony. I waited all this time to find you, you’re not getting rid of me that easy,” he smiled, trying to convey how much this meant to him with his eyes. It must have worked because when Clint reached for the button that would summon the nurse, Tony nodded his agreement.

Clint was silent as a nurse came in and listened to Tony’s request for painkillers. She was very enthusiastic as she obtained a syringe and pushed it into the IV bag already hooked into Tony’s arm. “You’ll feel so much better in the morning after a pain-free night of sleep, Mr. Stark. I’m glad you changed your mind.” She made a note on the chart at the foot of the bed and left them.

“Clint? You’re sure you won’t leave? I don’t think I can wake up alone, not after today.”

“There’s nowhere else I need to be, babe.” The endearment slipping out, unconsciously. Clint bit his lip, waiting for Tony’s reaction. Clint was notorious for falling too fast.

“Babe, huh? So if I’d asked you out, you would have said yes?”

“Definitely!” Clint relaxed into his seat, getting as comfortable as he was likely to. “I like pretty much all food, so that doesn’t matter. Maybe you’d take me to some classy Italian joint and set us up at a secluded booth in the back. You’d order something fancy and unpronounceable while I’m slumming it with regular old spaghetti and meatballs.” Clint watched Tony’s face. His eyes were droopy and he was smiling, but he was drifting off toward sleep, so Clint kept talking to let him know he wasn’t alone.

“I know you look good in a suit, so I’d be trying to keep my hands from ripping it off of you. We’d talk the whole night, but never about work. I’d walk you home, my arm around your waist, cuz I’ve given up keeping my hands to myself. And when we get to your place, I’d kiss you. Our second kiss. I’d take my time, enjoy it in all the ways we didn’t get to savor our grocery store kiss.” Clint stopped talking, remembering the way Tony had grabbed him.

Tony tugged on his hand, bringing him back to the present. He was barely awake. “Show me,” he whispered, his head tilted toward Clint, eyes dark with emotion. Clint stood and leaned over Tony, one arm braced against the wall behind the bed. He stopped with his mouth less than an inch from Tony’s and let them breathe each other in before he pressed his lips gently to Tony’s. It was slow and sensual, Clint’s tongue sucked smoothly into Tony’s mouth. He explored delicately and was rewarded with a happy noise from the back of Tony’s throat.

Reluctantly, he pulled back. “Hmmm,” Tony sighed. “Can’t wait,” he murmured before he was pulled into slumber. Clint sat back in his horrible chair, relishing the faint taste of Tony in his mouth, more than content to spend the night exactly where he was.


End file.
